Tag: football season

It's the most wonderful time of year—yes, football season! I am an unapologetic fanatic. Over a decade ago I began playing fantasy football with my friends. This was before the days of automated drafts and mobile apps, and as the commissioner I would wake up on Monday morning and go through the box scores in the newspaper (remember those) and hand tally the weekend data.

Fantasy sports have grown quite a bit since then. According to the Fantasy Sports Trade Association (FSTA), 51.5% of fantasy sports players are not married, so we'll estimate married players are also near the 50% mark.

Every fall, husbands (and some wives) across the country retreat to their couches for hours at a time and become unavailable to the outside world because football is on TV. From September through January, time stands still while grown men run around chasing a little brown ball. There's always a "big game" on seemingly every TV.

The following etiquette tips will help both husbands and wives survive the football season and keep their marriage intact—and possibly even improved!

Are you ready for some football?

Yes, it’s that time again when the sportscasters’ blaring voices are only silenced by the even louder cheering or jeering of your husband and his buddies. Wives become widows, and the house seems to explode into a confection of beer, popcorn and chips. It’s a strange time: women are filled with a mix of joy for their man and frustration for themselves. Maybe "hate" is too strong a term, but many women resent this annual ritual of the all day marathon that is football. Has anyone ever asked the question, "Why aren’t wives ready for some football?"

For football fans, Super Bowl Sunday is the pièce de résistance of their favorite time of year: the NFL season. For the less enthusiastic girlfriends and wives of football fans, however, Super Bowl Sunday has a different meaning: sweet relief.

As the partner of a rabid football fan, I know my fate is sealed for the next six months as soon as the first pre-season kickoff lands on the 20-yard line. No more life for me; I’m now a weekly prisoner of John Madden and Cris Collinsworth and other commentators for 12 hours on Sunday, four hours on Monday and four hours on Thursday and Saturday nights halfway through the season. (Not to mention the hour-long sports shows every night of the week that constantly replay the same footage I just spent 24 grueling hours watching.) Some football widows have the luxury of exiting stage left as soon as the game clicks on. But for me, and many women like me, my football lover likes to have me by his side for every game. Sweet? Yes. Agonizing? Kill me now.